To begin: apologies. Twice over, in fact.

The last three weeks have been busier than any for some while, so I have sadly neglected this blog. Never fear: normal service will shortly be resumed!

Second, if you like your posts in neat chronological order, you won’t like the next few. I am back-filling, and will be dotting around a bit. But not too much.

I am definitely getting better at improvising my way round faux pas, successfully doing so for the second time this week last night.

Right now I am doing the rounds of the club scene: part as background for future writing; and part to explore the many and varied door policies in respect of transgender. The latter was much boosted by the discovery of an interesting policy at a club in west London. The usual gender discrimination in terms of £10 admission for women, £30 for single men. But an added and seriously insulting third option: £20 for the transgendered.

More on that later.

But last night was out in London at a new and slightly risqué women’s club with a difference. The difference in this case was the fact that it also allows entry to men, so long as accompanied by a woman. I don’t think that works. There weren’t many men there (yay!) and I suspect the few additional entrants they gained from their current policy were more than outweighed by the number of women they lost through it.

Still, I set out in high spirits, until realising, some thirty miles from home, that I had forgotten the bag containing skirt and leggings. Oh, yes: did I mention this was at half ten on a Saturday night?

What to do? Going home wasn’t an option, but…could I possibly go as was?

The answer, in the end, was yes. First off, I managed to acquire a pair of tights…in London, at half eleven. No mean achievement, even if they were some of the skankiest tights I have ever had the misfortune to try (and in the end, I decided against).

Thankfully, too, I was wearing a pair of sleek and figure-enhancing (black) magic pants. Ditto vest, which, when pulled down doubled as not quite a mini-dress. More a micro of the sort that I suspect even daughter would be reluctant to wear.

Add a ridiculously chunky gold belt and plenty of bangles, my newest and currently favouritest Troy sandals and…success! A presentable outfit.

Two out-takes from that, I guess. The first is that I don’t need leggings to look and feel good: a fashion learning. Second, I guess this may sound like a trivial thing, but I hit an issue around dressing in adversity…and I felt I came thru with flying colours.

I’m learning. A month ago, it would have been disaster. A sad limping home – and no night out. Yesterday…I solved it and had a very good time.




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